


"Hope" is the thing without feathers

by transjohnnygill



Series: Got My Eyes on You [4]
Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, someone please hurry up and save Lavi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-08-19 00:04:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8180897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transjohnnygill/pseuds/transjohnnygill
Summary: “Hope” was a thing without feathers -That perched on his shoulder -And sang the tune without the words -And never stopped - at all -





	

**Author's Note:**

> Giant thanks to @Haikuliddel for the inspiration for this <3

Though he didn't outwardly look it, Lavi was beginning to panic. It had been so long since he had seen his master, or Wisely, or hell, even Tyki that he was beginning to wonder if they had all just abandoned him to Sheril's whims and forgotten about him—maybe Bookman was dead, maybe Wisely had gotten bored of whatever it was that they were, and this pain and suffering was all that was left for him. Lavi sucked in a deep breath to try and stop his shaking, blinking back the tears in his eye as he tried to keep his head about him. But it was getting more and more difficult to keep up the facade of anger and rebellion when it would be so much easier to submit and give into the fear.

Tokusa had been the last person he had seen, but even then the former Third had only been there for a handful of minutes to drip some water into his parched mouth, not speaking or even meeting his eye once the entire time he was there; Lavi couldn't tell if it was because the Noah had control over the hybrid man or if he was just as broken and beaten down as Lavi looked. That had been some two days ago, the clock on the wall both a blessing and a curse as it mockingly ticked off the time at a pace that seemed far too slow to be real.

Sheril had last come almost three days before Tokusa, leaving him barely conscious after a fit of fury and indignation at Lavi's continued cheekiness and resistance. If his captor had been anyone other than Sheril, Lavi would have been worried that they might just leave him there to waste away and rot, but that was too kind a death to expect from that bastard; maybe he thought that the silence and isolation would break him down, make him more compliant. As it was, the dim flickering lights in the room were wreaking havoc on his vision, and his ears strained to hear anything other than his own ragged breathing.

He knew he needed to keep his mind occupied, but focusing on his records as "Lavi" only served to make him miss his friends, his heart aching whenever he dared to think about them. At the very least he knew that Lena and Krory were alive and more or less well. Thinking of Kanda gave him a lump in his throat, Wisely having delivered the news to him that the swordsman had been declared dead by the Order. And Allen...if what Wisely said was true, Allen might not even be "Allen" anymore. Just how long could Allen keep running on his own when he was completely surrounded by enemies, especially with the worst one slowly chipping away at him from within? He didn't even have Two Dots there to have his back anymore...

Lavi didn't realize he was crying until the tears stung a still-healing cut across his cheek as they rolled down his face, a loud sob tearing itself free before he could stop it as worry and loneliness came crashing down upon him in waves. Kanda was gone, Allen might as well be, he had no hope of seeing Lena again, and Gramps would watch him die before ever giving up his secrets— _there's no one left, no one's coming for me, no one's even **looking** for me, and I'm just gonna die here cold and alone on this god forsaken ark and_—

Thump. The sound yanked Lavi out of his pity party, the spike in adrenaline from the unexpected noise heightening his senses and making him hyper aware of the room around him. He unconsciously held his breath as his ears strained to pick up any other sounds, searching for any indication as to what was coming next. A minute later the thump came again and Lavi painstakingly twisted around, his body aching and protesting the movement causing his vision to swim momentarily. Something had hit the door; Lavi might have thought it had been a knock if he hadn’t heard the second, lighter thump of something falling to the ground just outside the door.

_What on earth…?_

It came again, this time the door creaking open an inch, casting a narrow beam of light into the room. Blood pounded in Lavi’s ears, his heart pounding in his chest as he waited in horrid anticipation for what would come through the door. But what appeared in the doorway was completely and utterly unexpected as a large, fat bullfrog wiggled its way into the room, croaking loudly as it sat there in the light, apparently staring at Lavi.

He watched, utterly dumbfounded, as Gamako hopped over to his armchair, stopping in front of him and chirping expectantly up at him. But Lavi couldn’t do anything but stare down at the frog, a million thoughts and emotions swirling around in his head. When Lavi failed to do anything, Gamako croaked loudly, hopping up and down as indignantly as an amphibian could. The redhead still failing to understand, the frog launched himself onto Lavi’s lap and carefully scaled his way up to his shoulder, tucking himself just inside the collar of his jacket in the crook of his neck, the low and steady ribbits soothing and comforting in a room that had been all too silent.

Lavi let his tears run freely then, relief wrapping around him like a soft embrace. He hadn’t been forgotten here. He wasn’t alone. Wisely, wherever he was, wasn’t just going to abandon and leave him there; Gamako being there was evidence enough for him that Wisely would come back for him—the frog wouldn’t have ever just shown up on his own. He didn’t know what kept the mind reader from coming himself, though part of him knew that Sheril probably had something to do with the lack of visitors, but regardless Lavi was thankful for the company, whatever form it took.

Such a seemingly small thing was making all the difference in the world, grounding Lavi and protecting whatever sanity and resolve he had left in him. He could survive this. He _would_ survive this. Even if only to spite that sadist out of the pleasure of seeing him broken. Sheril could take a great deal from him, but the one thing he couldn’t touch was his bond to his loved ones; as long as he had those, he could hold out hope—hope that Gramps was still alive, hope that Wisely wouldn’t leave him to die there, hope that his friends would find him.

With the steady sound of frog song in his ears, Lavi slowly drifted off into the most peaceful sleep he had had in weeks, dreaming not of his captor or the horrors of war, but of sunny afternoons with his friends and late nights in the library with Bookman, of the comfort and lazy warmth of Wisely’s company somewhere far, far from this place.


End file.
